


In The Darkness Of A Cell

by ProstheticLoVe



Series: Gallavich Week 2020 [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: A tiny bit of smut, Domestic, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, GW2020, Gallavich Week Domestic Day 6, Getting to know one another again, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, a TINY bit angsty if you squint, domestic bitches, domestic in prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:00:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25486627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProstheticLoVe/pseuds/ProstheticLoVe
Summary: Ian gets to know Mickey again while they are in prison. Set between 9X06 - 10X02GW2020 Domestic.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Gallavich Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1846240
Comments: 23
Kudos: 215





	In The Darkness Of A Cell

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: No one belongs to me. If they did we’d get gallavich all the time.
> 
> Hello again! This is my second GW2020 fic. I have been wanting to write something about their prison time FOREVER. So I figured this was the time and place to do it. I really wanted to explore this idea of how we went from seeing Ian and Mickey in 9X06 getting back together to them saying mutual I Love Yous in 10X03. I wanted to explore how they came back together. And this doesn't fully, but it's a start. I hope you guys like it! 
> 
> The quote is from a poem (I think) about Persephone to Hades. Someone posted it on Instagram and I thought it was beautiful and fitting for the story I wrote. So I didn’t write the quote, but I can’t tell you more about it other than it’s Persephone to Hades, so I take no credit! 
> 
> Lastly, due to working on this (longer than I planned) fic, my regular update will be pushed back a little (probably this weekend).
> 
> I hope you enjoy the fic! Let me know what you think! Happy GW2020 Week!

_ “You showed me how our love can transform the darkest, coldest realm into the happiest of homes.”  _

_ ~ Persephone to Hades _

* * *

“What’s your favorite color, Mick?” Ian asked quietly, his voice cutting through the darkness of their cell.

It had been a month since Ian had found Mickey again and while prison was the last place either of them wanted to be, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so light and happy. He thought it had to be that summer when Mickey had gotten out of juvie and all they did was spend time working (fucking) at the Kash N Grab, drinking beers and smoking pot, and hanging out (fucking) in the dugouts and abandoned buildings. 

It was the summer that changed his life. 

He liked to think it was the summer Mickey began to come to terms with Ian meaning more to him than just a fuck buddy. 

He liked to think that was the summer he realized he could spend forever with Mickey if he’d let him. 

It was a time in his life that just seemed to be simple; all he’d wanted was Mickey.

And he had him.

At least for a little while.

That was the summer he looked back on. Even in the darkest moments these past few years, he remembered how happy he had been once upon a time with the man he loved. 

He’d revisited that time a lot after leaving Mickey at the border. He’d revisited that time after Mickey was sentenced to 15 years (with the wish of getting out in 8). He’d revisited that time when he found himself in lackluster relationships. He’d revisited that time when his mind was so mixed up and dark that he just needed something pure to hold on to, to keep him afloat.

It was  _ that _ summer that was so authentic in his mind. The one he kept wanting to repeat now that they had the time again to be together. 

He hoped it would be longer than a summer this time.

Despite the looming of his diagnosis and the guilt he felt over cheating on Mickey, the summer he was working at the club after his first low episode had bouts of sweetness. He’d enjoyed playing family with Mickey and Yev. Even Svet and Nika were okay to be around. 

But nothing could beat that summer where they only had each other. For small moments when the sun would catch Mickey’s unguarded face or they’d be looking up at the stars from one of the abandoned buildings, Ian could trick himself into believing this was something they could have all the time. 

Now, they were together again, but they were in prison this time. 

There were moments that reminded Ian of that summer years ago where they wrestled in dugouts and stole 40s to drink between banging.

Sure, they weren’t teenagers anymore and the darkness of the dugouts and decrepit buildings were a far cry from the bleakness of their cell, but Ian couldn’t help but compare now to those summer nights so long ago.

They just traded in their conversations in the dark of abandoned buildings and dugouts for their cell.

Instead of snacking in the Kash N Grab, they ate entire meals three times a day together.

Rather than walking around their neighborhood, they hung out in the yard, using the exercise equipment or running on the track.

But most importantly, Ian was learning about Mickey again.

Just like he had that summer. 

The darkness around them may be bleak and unforgiving, but Mickey was driving that force away and replacing it with light and hope.

Ian remembered how hard he had to work to get Mickey to even like him. He just figured the older boy was around to fuck him and that was it, but little by little he was able to see the parts of Mickey he hid away.

He was reliving that moment now.

After spending so many years away from the love of his life, he found himself wanting to learn everything about him again. Things he hadn’t known before, things he’d done while they were apart, things he’d always wanted to know but was too afraid to ask.

While Mickey was holding him at arm’s length, Ian could feel his resolve cracking. He was determined to weasel his way back into his heart, like he had so many times before. Like he had during that summer when they were teenagers and the biggest worry they had was getting caught fucking in the Kash N Grab. 

He wasn’t sure why he was holding him at arm’s length, but he could guess. Ian had fucked up a lot. He knew that. He knew he should’ve visited Mickey more. He knew he shouldn’t have led him on and went to the border with him. He knew he shouldn’t have broken up with him on the front porch of his house. 

If Mickey had put him through half the shit Ian had put him through, he’d have a hard enough time trusting him too. 

But he would. 

Eventually.

Ian just had to show him he was here for good.

He had nowhere else he’d rather be.

He knew it was fucked up to feel happy while in prison, but as long as he was with Mickey, he’d be fine anywhere. 

Ian had figured with the additional time they were ‘forced’ to spend together, he’d re-learn the language of Mickey. It had been such a long time since they’d last been together, for real, not just stolen minutes where they could get them. And Ian wanted to learn what he’d missed in their time away.

He wanted to know about Mexico.

He wanted to know about Mickey’s first stint in prison.

He wanted to know how he’d come back to the U.S.

He wanted to know  _ everything _ .

But so far, during their time together this past month all they did was joke around and  laugh and fuck. And while Ian was 100 percent okay with that, _ he wanted more _ . (He always wanted more with Mickey, ever since he was 15.) 

He remembered little things about Mickey, like the way he had night terrors or how he hated being woken up by loud noises. He knew he loved orange juice (but not apple or cranberry) and good coffee. He knew he liked to shower in the evenings and he secretly enjoyed reading science fiction books. Ian remembered all of those things, but there were more things he’d always wondered, but didn’t have the time to ask him before things got... _ bad _ .

Now, all they had was time. 

And Ian was going to try to make the most of it. Even if starting off with asking his favorite color was pretty low on the scale of ‘things to learn about the love of my life.’

He’d decided to ask the question at night, when Mickey was close to sleep. That’s when he was the most vulnerable Ian remembered. The darkness helped open himself up a little more. Helped Ian weasel out the answers he’d longed for from Mickey, who was always too afraid or uncomfortable to show his emotional side, at least back then. 

While he’d become a little softer around the edges (at least to Ian), he was still Mickey. And sometimes that meant pushing a little until Ian could get him to come around.

That was easier to do in the darkness of their cell.

Ian was holding Mickey to his chest savoring the moments of being near him before he had to climb back up onto his top bunk. Their breathing had evened out awhile ago, but neither of them had moved once they’d finished.

“What kind of gay ass question is that?” Mickey snipped back shifting so he was facing Ian.

Ian could hear the fogginess in his voice and he knew he was close to sleep. After the lights had gone out, Ian had slid into Mickey’s bed, like he usually did. In the dusky atmosphere, they explored each other’s bodies. Seeking refuge in familiarity in a place that was meant to bring them to their knees. 

It had taken some time, but they were able to keep the volume low enough to make sure they weren’t caught. But Ian’s least favorite part of the evening was coming up, the part where he had to leave Mickey and crawl back into his top bunk. He wanted to prolong the moment and the first question he’d thought of popped into his head.

“Dunno, isn’t that something couples should know about each other?” Ian asked quietly.

Mickey snored in response and Ian smiled to himself at the sound.

“My favorite color is blue,” Ian proclaimed when Mickey didn’t say anything.

“Blue, huh? You and every other person on the planet,” Mickey said with a scoff.

Laughing, Ian pulled him a little closer and nestled his nose in his hairline. While the soap in prison was pretty abysmal, Mickey still maintained that sweet, woodsy smell that was so distinctly him. He sniffed and closed his eyes, savoring the scent after such a long time apart.

“Green,” Mickey said quietly.

Ian smiled and pressed a kiss to his neck. He felt Mickey melt in his arms and he knew he was approaching the cusp of sleep.

* * *

The next night before lights out, they had some time in their cell. Sometimes they spent that time playing a game. Fiona had sent him some cards and they had started playing Poker or Rummy. Ian was losing terribly in Poker, and Mickey had caught up to his points in Rummy. Most of the time they would sit on one of their beds and just be together while they both did their own thing. Ian usually read and Mickey drew. Occasionally, Ian would read out loud and Mickey would inconspicuously lay his head in his lap and listen to him.

On the very rare nights, they used the time to just lay on one of their beds and talk about how things used to be. Ian noticed after a few weeks that Mickey always avoided discussing anything that had to do with their future. Whether it was the next day or when they got out, he always made sure the conversation stayed in the past or that day. 

Ian had also noted Mickey never brought up their time apart. Only focusing on those years when they were teenagers and things were  _ softer _ .

Tonight Mickey had taken to climbing onto Ian’s bed with a piece of paper and a pencil while Ian held a book in his hands. Ian peered over his shoulder and smiled softly as he saw what Mickey was drawing.

“I still have the shorts,” Ian said nudging Mickey’s back.

Mickey was curled over the piece of paper and barely looked up at him when he responded. “Do you still fit in them?” 

Ian frowned, “you calling me fat, Mick?”

Laughing through his nose, he said, “Hardly.”

Looking up at Ian’s face, they stared at each other for a few minutes before looking away. 

“I can give you another lap dance when we get out of here. Wear the shorts for you,” Ian suggested leering at him.

Mickey licked his lips and his eyes darted away from Ian’s face. “Maybe.”

They fell silent as Ian watched him draw. He wondered exactly what that ‘maybe’ meant.  Did his standoffish behavior have to do with Ian mentioning the future when they got out?

Was Mickey not interested in getting a lap dance from him? 

Was he still upset about what happened to them during that time? 

Was he ashamed of Ian being a stripper? 

Did he not want a future with him?

Ian swallowed down the questions that bubbled to the surface and instead asked a different one all together.

“Where’d you learn to draw?” Ian asked almost shyly. He’d always known Mickey drew, but he never knew where he’d started.

Mickey shrugged, his focus was on the definition of Ian’s abs.

“Dunno, school, I guess,” he was quiet as he finished off shading the lines and added, “I’ve always liked drawing.” Finally glancing over at Ian, “I just...do it when I’m bored and, well, we’re in fucking prison, I’m bored a lot.”

Ian smiled slightly at the answer and went back to his book. Occasionally glancing over at Mickey, who was enraptured with the picture he was creating.

* * *

An inmate had tried to escape so the guards were searching the grounds for him. That meant all the lights were on, even though it was long passed lights out. This was seriously cutting into Ian’s plans of giving Mickey a blow job and getting him to make that soft careening sound he’d taken to making since they couldn’t create much noise. Instead of crawling into Mickey’s bed like he usually did, they were playing 20 questions to try and fall asleep despite the bright lights being on.

“...is it a lion?” Ian asked, yawning.

“A fucking lion? Really? I said it wasn’t an animal,” Mickey grumbled.

Laughing, Ian stuck his head over the side of the bunk and looked at him with raised eyebrows. “You’re grumpy tonight.”

“It’s probably close to midnight and I have to be up at 6am for laundry duty. Some of us don’t get to sleep in cause we’re working in the infirmary,” Mickey said rolling his eyes.

Ian smiled softly and watched as Mickey shifted on the paper thin mattress.

“Wish I could come down there,” Ian muttered hating the fact their little cell was bathed in light.

Mickey shrugged as if to say it didn’t bother him, but Ian could see otherwise. His shoulders were tense. His eyes darted around the cell, too alert for this time of night. The way he was gripping the sheets clued Ian into his discomfort, like he was in need of something to keep him grounded. 

Ian longed to reach out a hand to him, remind him that he was here with him.

Remind him he wasn’t leaving.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” Ian asked quietly.

Mickey laughed harshly, “who says I wanted to be anything? You think I had a choice living with fucking Terry?”

Ian shrugged, “I wanted to be superman.”

“No surprise there.”

Ian rolled back onto his mattress and stared at the off-white ceiling. The cell was silent for a few minutes until Mickey said, “I guess I wanted...I mean, all I really wanted was to get as far away from that fucking house as I could get. I didn’t ever really think about what I wanted to  _ be _ unless it was far away from Terry. Never really thought about my future, figured I didn’t have one.” 

Ian rolled onto his stomach and stuck his head back over the side to look down at Mickey. He was chewing on his bottom lip and staring at the wall. When Ian wouldn’t stop staring at him, he begrudgingly looked up and rolled his eyes at whatever he saw on Ian’s face.

“What do you want to be now that you do have a future?” Ian asked quietly.

Mickey looked at him and then his eyes darted away before settling on the pictures at the foot of his bed. One of which was the drawing he’d just finished of Ian in those gold shorts he claimed to not want to see him wear again. Ian wasn’t sure whether he did or didn’t, but he did know he was going to wear them for him when they got out of here. Even if Mickey didn’t want to discuss their future.

They did have one.

Ian knew it was going to be bright and beautiful and brilliant.

He could feel it in his bones.

Like he knew Mickey loved him.

Like he knew that this wasn’t going to be like last time.

“Dunno,” Mickey said just as softly. He looked up at Ian and their eyes met. Ian was surprised to see fear and hesitation resting there and as he went to open his mouth to push the subject, their cell was suddenly engulfed in darkness. Ian blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the sudden blackness and he almost jumped when he felt a hand grasp his own. 

“Mick?” Ian whispered, tightening his hand in Mickey’s.

“C’mere,” Mickey mumbled. 

Ian climbed into the bottom bunk and sunk into Mickey’s mattress. He felt Mickey’s hand wrap around his shoulders and bring him in for a kiss. Ian’s lips met his and he opened his mouth to Mickey’s persistent tongue. Tasting him was invigorating. No matter how many times they kissed, it still surprised Ian how much it felt like the first time. 

Ian got lost in the passion that roared between them. He felt Mickey’s hands run along his arms and dance across his neck before getting lost in his hair. Melting into Mickey’s softness, Ian moved his hands south to pull down his shorts and begin to palm at his dick. Right as his palm began to grasp his cock, the lights flickered back on and an announcement came on that it was time for count.

“Fuck,” they both muttered and then got out of bed, with mirror annoyed expressions and hard ons that needed to be willed away before a guard counted them.

* * *

Ian enjoyed working in the infirmary. Generally, he worked with a lot of the inmates for little things they were dealing with due to their lifestyle before prison or the shitty conditions because of it. He liked being back taking care of people, but it reminded him a lot of what happened after he ran away from the army. That familiar leaden feeling in his stomach as he realized that what he’d spent so long working toward wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get his old job back when he got out, but he knew there was a pretty slim chance, especially when they had taken a risk on him cause of his disorder.

However as much as he liked it, he’d never had to take care of someone who had been a victim of prison violence, until today. 

“Had a fight,” one of the guards came in grabbing one inmate by his arm. “Other one went to the hospital,” he added when he saw Ian eyeing the door to see who else was coming in.

Ian went to go get the doctor and watched as he took care of the inmate who looked pale from blood loss. As he watched the man being cared for by the doctor, he wondered what would happen if that were him or Mickey. 

He knew fucking dark shit went on in prison, but so far his focus had been solely on Mickey. And yeah, he’d made a few friends too, but prison wasn’t turning out to be as bad as he had anticipated. He got to do something he enjoyed in work and he was always around Mickey. Besides the bars on the windows, the tiny fucking cell they inhabited, the shitty prison guards… well, so it was pretty bad, but Mickey was here so all the other shit just...fell away.

He knew eventually the pearly sheen of honeymoon love would wear off. They’d probably be at each other’s throats cause there are certain aspects of the tiny ass cell situation that grated on his nerves. (Mickey’s constant clicking of his pen or the fact he never wiped the seat were just some of those things.) 

He figured if they were living together in some tiny ass studio apartment in Chicago, the same things would bug him. (Although, there would be a bathroom door to give them some privacy, so that was something.) When they lived together in their teens, Ian knew there were some things that bothered him about living in the Milkovich household. But now, he honestly couldn’t think of what they were. That time he and Mickey were ghetto married was all a blur of late nights, passionate fucks, and words that seemed too heavy to say just yet. 

But there were also moments that reminded Ian he was in fucking prison. That popped that bubble of love he’d created around him and Mickey. Things like stitching someone up who’d gotten shived. Or seeing a guard beat a prisoner. Nazi tattoos and dirty glares for being a gay icon weren’t exactly pleasant to be the target of either.

But for the most part, Ian forgot he was supposed to hate his situation.

Mickey just did that to him. 

He made everything...better.

He’d always made things better.

Until he remembered where he was and how easily the little life in prison he and Mickey had built could all be ripped away. Like so much of their time together. Mickey could easily be that victim in the infirmary or the one in the hospital.

And that made Ian’s stomach hurt at the idea.

That night as they were getting ready for lights out, Ian brought up something that had been bothering him.

“Hey, Mick?” 

“What?” Mickey asked as he gathered the pencils and paper and climbed onto his bed. Ian had figured it was going to be a drawing and reading kind of night, especially when Mickey had come home in a bad mood cause some guy in the laundromat had fucked up on the folding. (“Honestly, how fucking hard is it to fold a goddamn sheet?”)

“Some guy got stabbed today. There was a fight,” Ian said, playing with the dog-eared page of his book.

Mickey looked up at him with raised eyebrows, “yeah, heard about that. Davey was going on about some gang war he thought was going to start. But that kid is fucking nuts. Heard it was over a baby mama situation.”

Ian frowned and looked at him to see he’d gone back to looking for his favorite pencil which had fallen under the bed.

“That ever freak you out?” Ian asked softly.

He heard a muttered, “found it” and then Mickey was climbing onto the top bunk. 

“What?” 

“You ever get freaked out about the - about all the fucking violence in here?”

Mickey shrugged and sat back against the brick wall. “It’s fucking prison.” As if that answered all of it.

Ian frowned, “yeah,  _ we’re in fucking prison _ .”

Mickey stared at him and Ian sighed. “I just feel like - what if - the violence is fucking scary.”

“Ian, nothings going to happen. The cartel doesn’t have any guys in here and, well, everyone thinks you’re kinda - you know.” Mickey made a shrugging motion and thumbed at the area over his lip. 

Ian smirked darkly, “they think I’m crazy.”

“I mean -  _ I _ don’t think you are. I know you, but let people think what they want to so they leave us alone,” Mickey said, fiddling with the edge of the piece of paper.

“Yeah,” Ian said, wanting to move forward and kiss him, but he knew he wasn’t able to. Not when the lights were on. Not when any of the guards could walk past the door.

Instead, he settled on reaching forward and squeezing Mickey’s hand with the F-U-C-K across his knuckles.

“I worry, you know,” Ian revealed quietly.

Mickey looked up at him and he watched as his eyes darted to the side before nodding once. “Yeah, I know.”

“The first time, I mean--” Ian stopped himself as he watched Mickey’s eyes darken at the line of questioning he was tempted to go down. He started again, “it would fuck me up if you got stabbed.” He chose to say instead because he didn’t think he nor Mickey were ready to talk about the missing years between them. 

And while he knew Mickey loved him -  _ had _ loved him - he wasn’t sure where they currently stood. 

Obviously, he’d given up his own freedom and put himself in jeopardy with the Mexican cartel, but he hadn’t said  _ those _ three words and Ian wasn’t exactly sure how to bring it up, especially not when they weren’t standing on solid ground just yet.

Mickey smirked slightly and then he began to start a new drawing. Ian could begin to see he was going to carve an area out on the piece of paper to write out words.

“Yeah, me too Gallagher, me too.” he said eventually.

Ian nodded and picked up his book to settle in until lights out.

* * *

They were out in the yard, waiting their turn to use the weights when Ian turned to Mickey with a question on the tip of his tongue. He had been debating asking him this for a while now. Fiona had just visited him before she set off on her world adventure or whatever she was planning and since then he couldn’t help but think of the other woman in his life who he missed -  _ Mandy _ . He hadn’t heard or talked to her since he’d run into her years ago when she was working as a prostitute and needed his help. He thought about her off and on through the years, but whenever he’d tried to reach out to her, he met a dead end. 

“You ever talk to Mandy?”

Mickey’s head whipped around to look at him so fast, he was surprised it didn’t spin off his neck.

“The fuck you asking me that for?”

Ian shrugged, “Fiona visited me. I was just--”

“So? Mandy hasn’t visited me since my second stint in juvie. You know the time your fucking pedo boyfriend shot me.”

Ian frowned, but ignored the jab about Kash because - what the fuck, that was years ago. “You talk to her though, right?”

Mickey stood up as a few of the other inmates began to walk away from the weights signaling that it was time for their turn.

“Not everyone is as close to their siblings as the Gallaghers,” Mickey paused, “come on, let’s grab these weights before someone else does.”

* * *

Dining in prison was pretty much the worst eating experience Ian had ever had. The food was pretty awful, worse than cafeteria food, worse than hospital food, worse than the fucking psych ward…

But he still had to eat, just to take his pills at the very least. Mickey had reminded him - on more than one occasion - how if he didn’t eat, he’d be sick later when his pills kicked in. Ian wasn’t sure how he remembered all this shit about bipolar, especially when it had been years since his initial diagnosis, but Mickey was as knowledgeable as ever. Sometimes he wondered if he went to the prison library just to read about bipolar, but he’d found out pretty quickly that it was to accrue contraband.

“...gotta eat something,” Mickey finished saying, pulling Ian back into the prison cafeteria and away from his thoughts.

“I fucking hate this food,” Ian muttered rubbing a hand across his face and trying to block

out the smell of two day old chili. 

“I know man, but if you don’t eat then--”

“Yeah, yeah, meds, I know,” he gripped back. 

Since he had to take his pills every morning and night, it was mandatory for his release, they hadn’t had much of a fight over his bipolar, but it was still a touchy topic. Ian wondered if Mickey would be like how he was before when they got out, but he was too afraid to ask for two reasons. 

One, Mickey still wasn’t into talking about the future and two, the topic touched a little too closely to their actual breakup. (Ian never counted Mickey breaking up with him after Frank found out about them as an actual breakup since the only reason they stayed away from each other was because he was in juvie.) 

However, despite all of the growth they both had done, Ian still got a little uncomfortable when one of the guards had to hand deliver his pills if they were locked in their cell and he couldn’t go to the infirmary to get them. 

He didn’t mind Mickey seeing him take his pills, but it was a reminder to the both of them how little they had actually talked about any of the real issues in their past and how it could mar their future.

Ian stirred the beans and chunks of beef around in the brown sludge and then glanced up at Mickey who was watching him.

“Where’d you learn about the bipolar shit? Like why even bother?” Ian blurted out, tilting his head and studying Mickey.

Mickey’s eyebrows rose and a faint pink began to flush across his cheeks as the question hung between them.

“Jesus, Fuck, Gallagher, I was just trying to help. I’m going to be the one who has to suffer when you’re up all night shitting your brains out,” Mickey snapped stabbing the half-stale cake they were given.

Ian reached over and wrapped his hand around Mickey’s. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just...was curious how you - how you always know all that shit. You’ve always known it.”

Mickey’s eyes darted away and then back at him. “I just - I mean, why are you asking me this?”

Ian smiled slightly and shrugged, letting his hand drop away from Mickey’s before one of the guards came over and yelled at them for touching. “Cause no one else ever took the time to learn about all my crazy shit the way you have.”

Mickey’s mouth shut audibly at that and Ian smiled at the fact he’d caused Mickey to go speechless.

It didn’t last for long though, because he cleared his throat and shrugged, “I just - did some research. Figured I should know what I was getting myself into. Maybe I talked to that bitch nurse when we’d gone to the clinic to get your meds once or twice. Maybe I talked to Fiona about it while you were sleeping or whatever.”

Ian couldn’t help the smile that widened across his face.

Mickey rolled his eyes and looked away, but Ian could see the beginnings of a smile there.

“Not a big fucking deal, Gallagher,” Mickey snipped, stabbing his cake again and taking a bite.

Ian nodded slowly and began to eat the green beans that didn’t look too bad on his tray and pick at the peaches and cake that also seemed edible. He wondered if Mickey could hear his heart thudding in his chest. He was amazed that this man he’d been in and out of a relationship with for 10 years even caused his heart to beat so loudly, but he did and Ian expected he would for years to come.

* * *

It was dark in their cell. Ian was pressed against the wall and Mickey. He could hear his soft breathing, but it had yet to become heavier (the snoring hadn’t started yet either), so he knew he was still awake. 

They had foregone fucking that night because it had been a long, hot day and their cell was pretty muggy. Despite that. Ian had insisted that he cuddle close to Mickey until he had to get back on his top bunk. Mickey had grumbled, but rolled his eyes and laid on his side as Ian tucked them together. Entwining their legs and arms and nuzzling his neck.

Mickey had been telling a story about getting a bad sunburn after drinking too much alcohol and falling asleep on the beach. Ian was listening intently until Mickey had trailed off, too tired to continue talking.

Ian for his part, was still pretty awake. 

He couldn’t seem to quiet his mind, which would be worrisome but he knew it was something completely unrelated to his disease.

August had hit suddenly, which meant Mickey’s birthday was in about a week. He had been wondering what to get him, but there weren’t many options in prison. He’d considered surprising him with something like a homemade cake bought out of shit from the commissary, but there wasn’t much to make a cake with. Apparently, July was a popular month for birthdays and a lot of the ingredients he’d need they were out of. 

“Mick, you awake?” Ian mumbled squeezing his hand lightly. 

Mickey squeezed back ever so softly and shifted in front of him. “Now, I fucking am. What’s wrong?” he asked in a raspy, sleepy voice.

Ian was quiet for a few minutes as he tried to figure out how to ask the question. “What do you want for your birthday?”

He heard Mickey laugh and then he rolled over to look Ian in the eye. Through the darkness of their cell, Ian could make out the bright blue of his orbs. He could see the dark lines of his eyebrows and the soft curve of his sleepy smile on his lips. He leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to his mouth, working his tongue to open Mickey up to him. 

As he licked into Mickey’s mouth, he felt his hands card through his hair, tugging a little just the way Ian liked. Breaking a part to breath, Ian rested his forehead against Mickey’s.

“Promise me something?” Mickey whispered.

Ian could feel his breath ghosting against his lips and he felt the shivers all the way down to his cold toes. He brought a hand to Mickey’s cheek and found his blue eyes once again.

“What?” Ian whispered, rubbing his thumb against the stubble on his cheeks.

“Give me a head’s up when you go,” Mickey said in that same soft voice. 

Ian felt that icy feeling in the pit of his stomach and he opened his mouth to respond, but Mickey kissed him hard on the mouth and then rolled back over to face away from him. 

“That’s what I want for my birthday,” he said slightly louder.

Ian stared at the back of his neck, not sure what he could do to make him understand that he wasn’t leaving again. Nothing was going to take him away. 

Not like last time. 

Not ever again.

“Mick--”

“Ian, go to sleep,” Mickey said, taking his hand and cradling it to his chest like he always did when they slept. He shifted his hips so they were slotted against Ian’s and within a few minutes he could hear his soft snores filling the dark cell.

Ian watched him for a long time. Silently making him promises in the darkness. Forming sentences of vows in his mind to make sure he would believe him. It was easy to promise him anything when it was just them in their little dark cell.

Nothing could get them here.

He wondered how he could show him that this time would be different. 

It was morning by the time Ian finally had a plan.

* * *

August 10th had been a day that was burned into Ian’s memory. Even when Mickey wasn’t with him, he thought about him on that day. 

The summer they’d spent together had been the first year they had celebrated Mickey’s birthday. They hadn’t done anything special, but Ian had stolen some weed from Lip and they’d rolled joints and drank 40s in an abandoned building. 

Basically a usual day for them, but Ian had tried to make it special.

He had brought a backpack full of snacks and a blanket. Under the stars, they’d fucked so slowly, so sweetly, he’d felt like his body was on fire. He hadn’t been sure what to get him for his birthday, but he’d splurged on a zippo lighter that years later Svetlana had stolen and given to Nika as a birthday present.

It was the first thing that Ian had bought Mickey, but it was by far not the last.

This birthday Ian didn’t have much money. He didn’t have many options. But by a miracle, they had a Snickers bar and some Lay’s chips in the commissary. So Ian bought those. But even with the well meaning gifts, Mickey’s request of a promise still haunted his mind.

It still filled him with an icy coldness that he wasn’t sure how to shake. He had half formed sentences in his mind of what he could say to make Mickey believe him. But Mickey had always been a man of action while Ian had held words close to his heart.

August 10th had been relatively uneventful.

Ian had woken Mickey up with a quick blow job before the alarm sounded. After they went down to breakfast and then work. During lunch, Mickey’s friends had joined them and in the afternoon, they’d spent time in the yard with the weights. 

It was before lights out that Ian knew he’d give him his presents. That was what he was waiting for.

“I hope you like it,” Ian said as they made their way back from dinner.

Mickey rolled his eyes, “don’t even know why you fucking bothered.”

Ian smirked at him and deliberately brushed his hand against Mickey’s in an attempt to show him that he wanted to reach for him but couldn’t. Mickey brushed his hand back and he gave him a salacious grin as they got into their cell.

Immediately going for the little stash of items he’d put under his pillow, he put them behind his back.

“Couldn’t afford wrapping paper,” Ian said apologetically as he waited for Mickey to pick a hand.

He rolled his eyes and pointed to his left hand with the Snickers bar. Laughing when he saw it, he held it gently in his hands.

“Fuck, I haven’t had one of these in years.”

“Sorry it’s not a cake,” Ian said, waiting for him to choose his right hand.

Mickey shrugged and then nodded at the other hand. Ian showed him the largest bag of Lay’s they had in commissary and Mickey’s grin widened.

“Sorry there’s no dip,” Ian said apologetically as Mickey took the bag.

Mickey waved him off as he looked down at his presents. Ian could see the elation radiating off of him. He felt proud that he’d been able to give him that even in prison because Mickey gave him that every day. And he wanted to make Mickey as euphoric as he made him.

“Better than last year,” he said, already opening the bag and popping a few chips in his mouth. He made a ‘mmm’ sound and Ian looked at the window of their cell to see there were a few guards outside. Groaning in annoyance at their constant babysitters, he sat on Mickey’s bed so they were a little more out of sight.

“I really want to fucking kiss you,” Ian blurted out as he reached for Mickey’s knees to bring him closer. Mickey came willingly and grinned down at him.

“Later, Firecrotch. I’ll be waiting for my  _ real _ present later,” he said, winking and leering at him.

Ian grinned up at him already looking forward to the birthday sex they’d have in the dark of the cell.

Lights out couldn’t come fast enough.

“What did you do last year?” Ian asked sitting back against the wall as Mickey joined him.

He looked down at the chips and then back to Ian. The little twinkle of euphoria slightly dimmed as he remembered.

“Got ready to turn myself in for your dumbass.”

Ian felt his heart sink at the words, despite the tiny smile on Mickey’s face. He longed to reach for him. Tightening his hands into fists, he stopped himself from moving forward. He knew the guards outside their door could split them up if they saw them getting too handsy.

“I’m sorry,” Ian said quietly.

“Stop fucking apologizing, Ian,” he said shortly.

The cell was filled with sounds of Mickey eating his chips and the dull noise of movement outside.

Ian had so much he wanted to say to him right then. He wanted to tell him he loved him. He’d always loved him. He wanted to tell him that he saw a future with them together and happy. He wanted to tell him he wasn’t leaving, no matter what Mickey thought. He wanted to tell him now was the happiest he’d been in years, despite the fact they were in  _ fucking prison _ .

Instead, as Mickey rolled up his half eaten bag of chips, Ian said, “tell me about your favorite birthday.”

Mickey smiled softly at him before laying down on the bed. He laid in such a way that the guards weren’t able to see him touching Ian. In response, he buried his large hands in the soft strands of dark hair. He looked down into Mickey’s clear cerulean eyes and memorized that soft smile on his lips. For a moment, he closed his eyes and breathed out in such a relaxing manner, Ian could feel himself melt.

“It was my 17th birthday. Guy with a dopey fucking smile and too many freckles thought he was being real suave by making me look at shooting stars with him in an abandon building in Chicago. The redheaded motherfucker was trying to get into my pants, but what he didn’t know was I was a sure thing,” he paused for a moment and Ian watched his smile turn a little more tender. “Gave me a zippo that my bitch ex-wife stole, but - it was the first time in my life that someone besides Mandy or Iggy did something for my birthday,” Mickey said quietly.

His eyes blinked open and he looked up into Ian’s green ones. Ian felt his throat tighten at his words and he moved to lean down to kiss him, but there was a loud tap on the window and a guard glared at them from the other end. 

Scowling, Mickey moved his head off of Ian’s lap and scooted much too far away from him for his comfort. The guard moved out of the window and Ian’s hand moved across the bed to squeeze Mickey’s. Needing to touch him right then to remind himself that this was real.

They were here.

Together.

“What was your favorite birthday?” Mickey asked as if they hadn’t been interrupted.

Ian smiled widely and began to tell him about his 18th birthday. That was the year Mickey had tried to make him a cake and failed miserably, but they’d eaten the half-baked dessert anyway. It was also the year that Ian had been diagnosed with bipolar and it was right before things got real bad when he stole Yev… 

“I’m hoping this year will be better,” he said watching Mickey carefully.

He ducked his head like he usually did from Ian when he brought up the future. 

Ian let him.

But later that night as he came inside him, he imprinted all the things he was still too afraid to say to Mickey on his skin. 

That night as they got lost in the feel of one another, Ian let his body say the things he wasn’t quite sure Mickey was ready to hear. 

But he knew he needed him to believe them. To trust in what his body was telling him. Trust what his heart was telling him. To listen to the trust that had always lay between them.

Every touch, every kiss, every thrust was filled with what Ian couldn’t say - due to fear from both of them.

Fear that this bubble of warmth would burst and they’d float back into darkness.

He felt their warm tears mingle together with their sweat. His heart felt full as Mickey’s inner walls clenched around him. He felt like this was the turning point. Like maybe Mickey would believe him a little more with each passing day. That his walls were slowly crumbling as they had all those years ago.

Maybe the summer was their time to show each other they loved each other. Maybe the summer was where it all had to start. Maybe the summer was what Mickey needed to believe that he wasn’t going anywhere.

As Ian collapsed in the aftershocks, he felt Mickey’s arms wrap around him to keep him close. Their sticky skin pressed together in the heat of the cell. 

He rested his head on Mickey’s shoulder and they breathed together as they both came down from their orgasm. He moved to get off of Mickey, but he kept them there. Tightening his arms around him and placing kisses along Ian’s face, their breath evened out. His actions telling Ian all he needed to know. 

As the darkness and silence in their cell wrapped around them, he knew no matter how dark it got, Mickey was his light. 

His hope. 

He was the warmth Ian always needed to guide him. And he knew Mickey was starting to believe that they could finally get their forever. 

Even in the darkest part of their cell they’d been banished too, there was hope as long as they were Ian and Mickey.


End file.
